The water shortage throughout Britain stirs uneasy memories of the rain-free
summer of 1976, says Geoffrey Lean.

It must be the only time that the entire crowd at a cricket match has erupted in cheers when rain stopped play. But this was August 1976, after months of drought, and the shower at Lord’s was indeed cause for celebration, even though the players were off the field for just a quarter of an hour.

That was a summer when the abnormal became commonplace, when sober-suited Whitehall officials found themselves desperately, but secretly, consulting Aboriginal rainmakers for advice on what to do. Yet as hosepipe bans come in for some 20 million people this week, much of the country may be facing even drier months ahead.

The 1976 crisis had long been building. From May 1975, England and Wales had the most arid 16 months on record. Parts of the South West went 45 days without a single drop of rain in July and August. Ground baked hard as stone, rivers and reservoirs dried up, trees perished, and the fires that swept through the New Forest and other parts of southern England could not be put out for lack of water.

Hosepipe bans were imposed and patrol vans took to the streets to sniff out rebel gardeners. People grassed on lawn-watering neighbours and a guerrilla group of Surrey housewives forced a local golf club to switch off its sprinklers by holding sit-ins, all-night vigils, and harassing groundsmen. By contrast, people with dirty cars were hailed as patriots, and many took pride (and pleasure) in heeding the call to “bath with a friend” in a prescribed five inches of water.

But none of this could stop an emergency drought Bill, standpipes being set up – one for every 20 houses – in Yorkshire, Devon and East Anglia, and water supplies in South Wales being cut off from 7pm. In the end it was not the Aborigines but the more prosaic, even stolid figure of Labour politician Denis Howell who brought the rain. It bucketed down within days of his being solemnly appointed Minister for Drought, though the advent of August Bank Holiday probably helped as well.

Now we seem to be approaching the threshold of a similar summer, or worse. Rivers in much of England are carrying less water than in the spring of 1976, some – like the Pang and the Kennet – have already dried up altogether.

Soil is drier, reports the official Centre for Ecology and Hydrology, than at any time in parts of central and eastern England. Reservoirs in south-east England are half full, and ground water in chalk aquifers from Sussex to Norfolk are lower than they were in that fateful year.

Rainfall from March 2011 to February was the lowest on record over much of Central England and East Anglia. Wales had little more than a quarter of its average precipitation for March. (The North West by contrast has been wet, and Scotland has had record rains.)

Last week, parts of Yorkshire joined most of East Anglia and the South East as officially in drought. The Midlands, South West and Wales are expected to follow. And – even though wetter weather, and some upland snow, is expected this week – nothing but a biblical deluge can replenish water supplies.

Much has changed since 1976. More people now live in the South East, the driest part of the country, which has less water per person than Syria or the Sudan. And there are many more one-person households that use proportionally more water.

On the other hand, industrial use of water has been slashed as industry has shrunk. And we have started using less water at home as water meters have been increasingly deployed – on average, they cut consumption by 12 per cent.

Water companies have developed more resources, mainly boreholes and river abstractions, though a couple of reservoirs and a desalination plant – at Beckton, east London – have also been built. Leakage from their water pipes has been reduced, even if it remains far too high. And they have got better at sharing water, both within their own areas and with neighbouring ones.

The system is therefore much more resilient than it was in the 1970s, and things will have to get a lot worse before standpipes appear. Still, the hosepipe bans are expected to remain in force in London and much of southern England at least until October.

The details of the bans differ between water companies, but generally they prohibit using a hose to water a garden, clean a car or boat, fill or maintain a pool or pond, or smarten up paths and patios. Fountains are banned, too: Thames Water says this is likely to lead to London’s fine array being stilled during the Royal Jubilee celebrations and the Olympics. And though some companies once allowed hosing of newly laid or sown grass during a ban, this now seems to have stopped.

By contrast, using a hose to siphon your bathwater out to refresh your plants is not only allowed, but applauded. And washing commercial vehicles – or walls and windows for business purposes – is permitted. There are, however, significant variations. Authorities generally make exceptions for the disabled (as long as they hold the hose themselves), but some are ready to do so for pensioners as well.

An unofficial website, www.hosepipeban.org.uk, is being deluged (sorry!) by queries from confused water customers. Can I use a hose to wash muddy pets in the Sutton and East Surrey area?(Yes). Can I refill my water butts with a hosepipe in the Anglian region? (No). What about bowling greens, golf greens and tennis courts under Thames Water’s rules?(No sports facilities can be watered unless used for “national or international level sports”. Ah, yes, the Olympics must be safeguarded.)

And what if things get worse, and the bans don’t do the job? Well the bans mark the second stage of four-phase plans implemented by the water companies. Again, they differ in detail, but are broadly similar.

The first stage – which started two years ago in some of the worst-hit areas – is to urge people to use water more wisely. That is expected to be necessary around once in every five years. The second – thought likely once a decade – steps up the appeals through advertising campaigns and can then bring in the hosepipe bans. If the drought intensifies, the third stage, expected every 20 years – would bring in new restrictions. Public and commercial swimming pools would close, as would mechanical car washes. All cleaning, commercial or otherwise, of vehicles, boats, aircraft and railway engines and carriages would have to stop. Spraying water to suppress dust would also be banned.

It is at the fourth stage – which would only occur in a drought more severe than Britain has yet experienced – that standpipes could be set up. In practice, the authorities will do almost anything to avoid it, conscious both of the need to protect public health and avoid public protest. So they are likely first to reduce pressure in the mains and increase work to stop leaks. Then they are expected to prioritise hitting water-intensive industry (one food-processing factory, according to Thames Water, gets through as much as 9,000 homes do), even accepting that some plants may have to close.

Let’s hope it never comes to that – and it probably won’t. But as much of the country experiences what may prove to be an even worse drought than in 1976, we are entering – as they say – uncharted waters.